Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Every woman is born with all her eggs. This means that in a sense my daughter was born with me; that I spent my whole life carrying her, before I even knew she was a possibility. When I think of my whole long life before she came, and I feel strangely lonely, it makes me feel better now, in retrospect, to think that she was always there, waiting with me, for her dad to make her complete.
And when my daughter was born into the world outside, still and for a long time after sheltered in the paradox of the temporary, delicate, and durable egg--I could protect her and keep her to myself, from the dangers, judgments, and heartbreaks--but of course she is pecking her way out and that is as it should be--
goodbye little egg